Sanemi sat beside his friend. One of the Kakushi said tentatively, “Lord Shinazugawa. You’ve lost a significant amount of blood—”
“It’s nothing,” Sanemi cut him off. “Leave us alone.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the Kakushi said. “You also have some broken ribs, and the damage to your throat is beyond what we can take care of here. I strongly recommend treatment at Butterfly Mansion right away. Otherwise, in the worst case, both of you could—”
“Shut up.” Sanemi glared at the Kakushi, daring him to go on.
“Are you certain you’re all right?” another Kakushi asked. It was a young man with sleepy eyes. “Can you state that definitively?”
Sanemi nodded curtly.
“That’s that, then,” the Kakushi said. “We withdraw.”
“But, Goto—”
“These are the people who risk their lives to fight demons for us. At the very least, we can respect their feelings.” The Kakushi hurried his colleague out of the house.
Sanemi and Masachika were left alone together. A different incense filled the air now, a cleansing scent burned to dispel the stench of blood.
“Sanemi …” Masachika struggled to remain conscious. His face was as white as a sheet. “The kids … What about the kids?”
“They’re both safe.” Sanemi sat his friend up, cradling his body. Masachika’s skin was cold, a sure sign that the flame of life was dying within him. Sanemi clenched his jaw, swallowing the urge to scream. “The Kakushi took them back to Butterfly Mansion. Relax.”
Masachika smiled with relief. “That’s good. What … about you?”
“Me?” said Sanemi with forced cheer. “You know me. Of course I’m fine.”
Even on death’s doorstep, Masachika still had room in his heart to worry about the children and his brother Demon Slayer. Sanemi gritted his teeth until they hurt. The base of his throat ached with unshed tears.
The little boy had wept with joy at the sight of the rescue squad, but the girl had remained in a stupor, not reacting in any way when the Kakushi spoke to her. Sanemi thought bleakly of Uraga, who slit his own throat rather than betray his false mother, only moments after begging for a chance to be reunited with his girlfriend. This girl seemed similarly entranced by Ubume, unable to escape her poisonous promise of love. Sanemi shuddered at the thought of what kind of future lay ahead for her.
“She’ll … be okay,” Masachika whispered, as if reading Sanemi’s mind. “Terrorized for so long...hard to escape the demon’s control. It’ll...take time. But she’ll...recover.”
His friend’s heroic words made Sanemi’s eyes sting. He pushed back the tears and tried to steady his voice. “What’re you worrying about other people for? I swear, I’ve got such an idiot for a brother.”
Masachika narrowed his eyes as if blinded by sudden brilliance. “Hey … Sanemi?”
“Yeah?”
“Even … when I’m gone...” Masachika’s voice was little more than an exhalation. “Eat. Sleep. Try...to get along with people.”
Sanemi couldn’t speak.
“Make sure … to live … your life.”
Sanemi hesitated before choking out, “Yeah.” If he said any-thing more, he would start crying. He would scream: Don’t die.
Masachika looked up at Sanemi and smiled. To Sanemi, it was the finest sight in the world. It was hard to believe he’d ever found it annoying, had tried to wipe it off Masachika’s face. That smiling face had saved his life time and again. Sanemi had only gotten this far because Masachika was with him. Thanks to Masachika, he’d been able to live as a human being again.
Why did someone so good have to die? Because he’d refused to harm a little girl? It was too absurd to accept. Sanemi wanted to shout to the heavens: If there are any gods up there, help him.
Masachika was so much kinder than he was. So much stronger. This was a man who could go on to save so many more lives. He could bring the world happiness.
“It’s … up to … you now … Sanemi … Don’t die …”
“Masachika.”
“Be … happy …” The light faded from Masachika’s eyes.
“Masachika!” Sanemi clutched his friend’s body to his chest and wept ragged sobs.
The Demon Slayer Masachika Kumeno was laid to rest in the same tomb as his brother, both slain by demons. Sanemi set flowers and ohagi on the grave as an offering. A tepid breeze made the white petals flutter. He lit a stick of incense. A thin line of smoke snaked into the air.
“In the end,” he said at last, “I didn’t know anything about you.”
He hadn’t known Masachika had a younger brother who had been killed by a demon before his eyes. Or that Masachika had blamed himself for his brother’s death, despite his parents’ constant reassurances. Or that he had brushed off his mother as she had begged him, weeping, not to throw his own life away by joining the Demon Slayer Corps.
Sanemi had only seen the cheerful, unruffled surface. He’d assumed that Masachika came from a peaceful background, a carefree life. But deep down, Masachika had shared Sanemi’s undying hatred of demons. He’d simply dealt with it in a different way. He never let anyone, not even Sanemi, see his anger.
Now Sanemi understood why the battle with Ubume had driven Masachika into a rage. In Ubume’s young victims, he’d seen his own lost little brother. No wonder he’d always played big brother to Sanemi, insisting on the apprentice-brother relationship whenever he had the chance.
“Guess I looked like a little brother to you, huh?” Sanemi said to the grave.
In reality, there wasn’t any great difference in their ages. Sanemi had thought of Masachika as a peer, or even as a pesky little brother.
His lips quirked upwards. “You really were the most difficult big brother ever,” he said, and the zinnias on the tomb fluttered as though they were laughing.
Sanemi, let’s go get beef hotpot.
Sanemi, I picked up some ohagi. Put on the tea.
Aw, I lost again! You’ve got some nerve, Sanemi. Let your big brother keep his dignity!
Now, now. How are you gonna attract girls if you make that face?
Sanemi! I caught you a rhinoceros beetle. Cut up some watermelon and save a slice for me.
Make sure … to live … your life.
Masachika had taught Sanemi not to give up on his life. But what about Masachika’s life? Was it happy? Sanemi fell silent, immersed in memories of his lost friend.
“Hey, Masachika,” he said at last. “That stupid kid brother of mine went and joined the Demon Slayer Corps, of all things.” Anger and annoyance mixed in his voice. As if trying to soothe him, the zinnias fluttered. Reluctantly, he smiled as memories stirred within him.
Sanemi remembered the day he became a big brother, his first look at newborn Genya with his monkey face and eyes screwed shut. When he timidly grasped that tiny hand, he was sure he saw the baby smile. At that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep this fragile little person safe.
Other brothers and sisters came after that, and Genya grew old enough to help his big brother around the house. Together they vowed to take care of their mother and younger siblings. Even so, as far as Sanemi was concerned, Genya would always be his baby brother.
When their mother became a demon and Sanemi killed her, Genya, the only other survivor in the family, wept and shouted that his brother was a murderer. The poor kid still felt bad about that, years later. But it had never bothered Sanemi. Nothing Genya did could ever hurt him.
During the dark times, Sanemi’s sole joy was Genya’s life, Genya’s happiness. It was all he prayed for; it was his reason for living.
“I don’t care how much he hates me for it,” Sanemi told the grave. “I’ll never give him my blessing to join. He doesn’t want this life.”
Head hanging low, he whispered, “I’m not making a mistake, am I, Masachika?”
The only response was the murmur of the wind.
If Masachika were alive, what would he say? He’d thought of Sanemi as a younger brother, had probably prayed for a bright future for him...
You’d tell me I’m being a dodo. You’d tell me to put myself in Genya’s shoes. You’d suggest we could guide him, teach him. And you’d do it all with a grin on your face.
You always were a better person than me.
“I can’t do that,” he said aloud. “I just can’t.”
Masachika died because he was the better person. He’d had the biggest heart in the world, and the world stole his life away.
Genya was a good kid too, the kind of person who put others before himself. No matter how much Genya hated and cursed him for it, Sanemi had to stop him from being as cruelly rewarded for his kindness as Masachika had been.
Sanemi wasn’t as strong as Kocho. He couldn’t welcome his brother into this world and fight alongside him. He wanted to protect him, and it seemed like the only way to do that was to push him away.
Sanemi crouched silently before the grave for a long while. At last he stood up. The wind teased his hair and ruffled the flowers.
“See ya,” the Wind Hashira said quietly. He turned his back, decorated with the character for “kill,” to his friend’s grave and slowly walked away.
The flowers swayed to and fro, as if carrying his words to the next world.
The wind blew.